


I'll take you away.

by duchessofdublin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchessofdublin/pseuds/duchessofdublin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I wrote this for the lovely <a>Angelica</a> who prompted me “Superhero AU! Kind of like Kickass or something. Underdogs, jocks, and so on so forth trying to to be heroes.” And well, I took superhero and twisted it so hard it became this.</p><p>I also made a fanmix to go with it. <a>Listen</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I'll take you away.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharCharizard (ardentfilmgeek)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentfilmgeek/gifts).



> So I wrote this for the lovely Angelica who prompted me “Superhero AU! Kind of like Kickass or something. Underdogs, jocks, and so on so forth trying to to be heroes.” And well, I took superhero and twisted it so hard it became this.
> 
> I also made a fanmix to go with it. Listen.

Scott finds him on the floor. Stiles is bleeding from his elbow and he is gasping. Scott runs a cool clot down his face and sighs.

“You’re getting tired.” Stiles says, his lips have cracked and his teeth are yellowing.

Scott ignores him and pulls the needle from his elbow. He tosses the needle in the bin. “You’re tired.” He says.

Stiles grins, it’s mocking. “Of course I am. I’m always so tired; my bones feel like they’ll crumble under the slightest movement.”

 Scott pulls him to his feet. He wraps an arm around him. “Stop joking.”

“I’m not. I’m 100% serious now. I’m The Joker serious right now.”

Scott is dragging him across the apartment. It’s dingy and the floorboards are creaking under their weight. It smells of mould and is more often than not teeth chattering cold but it’s all Scott can afford right now. He switches on the light with his shoulder. It flickers and threatens to give out but slowly lights up the room. There’s a mattress with a bundle of blankets on it. Scott sweeps all the old comic books off and lays Stiles down. He blinks owlishly up at Scott.

“What time is it?” Stiles asks.

“Just after ten.” Scott replies.

“At night?” After Scott’s curt nod, Stiles lips pulse and his forehead creases. “You’re meant to be working.”

“I am, bro.” Scott is struggling to get Stiles out his t-shirt and under the duvet.

“But you’re not at work?”

“I had a feeling you’d be stuck in a mess.”

“How thoughtful.” Stiles’ laugh is harsh. Scott glances at him and yanks the duvet up to Stiles chest.

“Just go to sleep, okay?”

Stiles stretches making the duvet lower over his naked chest. He grins up at the ceiling. “But I’m wide awake. I’m fresh as a daisy. I’m ready for the day.”

“You’re also high as fuck.”

“That too.” Stiles laughs again, but it trails out this time. Scot bunches all the comic books together.

“Stiles…”

“No.” He replies. The laughter is gone and the air in the room feels tight.

“You can’t keep avoiding-“

“We’re not talking about it.”

Scott piles the comic on an unopened box beside the bed. “Alright, just sleep okay? Don’t leave also.”

“Why would I leave? I have food, warmth and a roof above my head why on earth would I leave?”

Scott ignores him and makes sure to slam the door behind him on the way out.

~

Stiles wakes to the battered digital clock shining _5:56am._ He blinks the grit from his eyes and tries to unstuck his tongue from the top of his mouth. He flops on his side and blinks rapidly. He can hear the rattle of the kettle in the kitchen. Scott’s home then. He stumbles to his feet, grabs a t-shirt off the ground; it smells alright, maybe needs a clean and shakes his hair out of eyes. He trails to the ‘kitchen’ that squeezed between one wall and another. It can barely fit two people in a time.

“Long night?” Stiles asks. Scott doesn’t jump and he just continues to stir the coffee in his mug.

“It was alright. Allison was on shift so it wasn’t too bad.”

Stiles clenches his teeth and tries not to say anything.  “Oh, I didn’t know she worked nights.”

Scott flicks his eyes over his shoulder at Stiles. “Yeah she needed the extra cash so she worked longer than usual.”

Stiles grabs an orange and begins to peel. The smell stings his nose and he can taste blood in the back of his throat. “Doesn’t her dad own the weapon company on the East Side?”

“Yeah, but she’s not sponging off him.”

Stiles eats a segment, it’s bitter and he grits through it. “Wow, well done Allison, gold star.”

“Don’t be a douchebag. She’s nice.” Scott turns towards Stiles and leans against the counter. Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’d like her.”

“Cause she would be just lining up to talk with me?”

“She’s sweet like that. She will.”

“You make me seem like some kind of monster.”

“You just don’t look great, man.” Scott blows at his coffee.

Stiles lobs a segment at him. “You’re just too kind.”

“I’m just thinking that you might need help-“

“Stop.” The orange tastes like ash in his mouth. He stares at Scott. “I said I’m not talking about it okay?”

“We’re not talking it.” Scott says.

Stiles hates the feeling that settles low in his stomach. “It’s for the best.”

Scott nods and tries to squeeze pass Stiles. Stiles grabs onto him. “You’re not just leaving yet.”

Scott just looks at him and Stiles swallows heavily. He drops his hands and let’s Scott walk away.

He squeezes the orange in his palm until it’s rotten and he flings it at the wall.

He hates the taste anyway.

~

Stiles goes out that night. He puts a thick black hoodie that smells like Scott and pulls up the hood and follows the path down a narrow alleyway then through a back door that had duck tape sticking it on its hinges. It’s icy tonight.  Stiles stumbles and his hands begin to go numb but he just thuds along. There’s an old man who mumbles about change but Stiles just averts his eyes and hopes he doesn’t ask again. He doesn’t have any money to spare.

The club he enters isn’t really a club at all. It’s smoky and dark and full of people with fading tattoo’s and needles stuck in their arms. Some lay on mattresses while others smile stupidly at nothing. Stiles doesn’t interact with any of them. He doesn’t even know how this place hasn’t been busted. If only his dad could see him now, the Sheriff’s son allowing drug dealing to go on right in front of him. The sheriff’s son buying drugs with his rent money. It’ll be alright. He doesn’t have a drug problem; it’s only for this month anyway. He’ll stop by next month.

When he buys the man stares at him for a moment too long and Stiles snatches it from his dirty fingers and runs. He doesn’t catch his face – he’s sure of it with a scarf wrapped around his mouth and a cap pulled down to his eyebrows.

Stiles walks home. He takes his time. His heart isn’t beating so hard now that he knows he has it. Scott’s working again. He’s on days now. It doesn’t pay much but Scott doesn’t complain. Scott would never complain for he knows some people have it worse out there. He’s able to eat and he can sleep easily at night. There’s no room to complain.

The door takes extra time to open today for Stiles hands shake; hard and he can’t hold the key correctly. He bites his tongue hard enough for it to bleed. He finally slots it in and with a bang of his shoulder; he’s in.

There’s signs of Scott everywhere with his underwear nudged under the coffee table and his posters still half pinned to the back of doors and coffee rings on Stiles’ books. Stiles tries to wipe it from his mind and stumble towards the bathroom. He roots around in the towel pile in the corner where Scott doesn’t search and finds his gear. It’s like a routine at this point. He can’t stop his hands from shaking and the glass rattles in his hands.  He doesn’t have to think about what he’s doing, he just does.

He has to close his eyes for the next part.; where he finds his vein and stabs. It makes it sound so vicious and he bites his lip.

He only has to wait a few minutes before it rushes over him like a wave and he sinks closer and he can’t breathe properly.

He strangely thinks of what Allison must look like.

~

Scott shows him a picture of Allison and Scott’s co-workers the next day. Scott’s in the centre with his hair pushed to the side like he hurriedly ran his hands through it. There’s a lankly guy with too much hair in the back; he’s Isaac. A woman with a too low tank top and a man’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. They’re both smirking. They’re Erica and Boyd. They’re married, young but runaways none the less. And then there’s the grumpy looking fella who owns the shop – he’s Derek and Scott seems to get along with him for the most part. Allison isn’t what he expected. She’s sweet looking with dimples and a ponytail full of curls. He can’t look at her too long.

She isn’t what he expected. She seems perfect.

Scott seems proud of his group and makes Stiles meet them the next day. Stiles drags his heels and buries his face deeper into the sofa cushion  but Scott still makes him come along by sitting on him and threatening to eat his last pop tart. Stiles gives in and goes along to see the outcasts of the last night diner _The Alpha’s Roar_. Don’t even get Stiles started on that name.

The sun is only up and Stiles wraps an extra scarf around his neck. The sky is turning orange and red and blue and Stiles has to shield his eyes from the sun and Scott seems pleased by the grin marring his face. Stiles wants to kiss it off.

They arrive at the diner just as Derek walks through the door. He stares at Stiles for a moment then continues on. One down.

“Alright, guys, morning this is Stiles.” Scott grins at them as though it was enough. Erica is filing her nails and pauses mid-yawn to sweep her eyes up and down him.

“Hi.” She says, dryly.

Stiles spasms out a hand wave. She raises an eyebrow before continuing on with her filing. Boyd is carrying in a large cardboard box. Stiles can see him through the open door into the kitchen. He’s a big man. Boyd nods in his direction before continuing.

“Wow, you seem to a lively bunch.” Stiles says. Scott laughs and nudges his shoulder against his.

Isaac doesn’t seem to be around and Derek is in the back banging about. So Stiles sits down and lets Scott do his job, he watches Scott. Scott seems to be alive. He watches him laugh along with Erica and dodges Derek’s swats to his head and he dances and hums along to the morning music.

Stiles lays his head down on his folded arms and just tries not to fall in love.

It’s too late, he knows, because once you’re in love with your best friend you’re going to get your heart broken.

Scott is tan but pale around his eyes and his hand look stronger but his hair looks worn. Scott is aging too fast. They’re both too young.

Stiles feels not young enough. His bones already ach and his teeth clatter when he thinks of the cold. He tries not to go outside anymore.

Scott is more of an outdoors kind of guy; even with his asthma he could run laps around Stiles.

Stiles always sucked at lacrosse in school. He didn’t get sports. Boyd looks to be the kind of guy who was on every sport team in school. The kind of guy everybody liked. He’s quiet and Scott seems to talk to him a lot.

Derek just grunts. That’s how he communicates with grunts and his eyebrows. Stiles now knows that raised eyebrows with a slight arch of the left one means that you should shut up before he makes you.

The waiters are called _Betas_. Surprising it’s actually quite busy during lunch hour. Something to do with the _Fire Special_ or another. Stiles doesn’t eat during the day so he wouldn’t really know. The girls from the off campus college like to flirt with Scott a lot with sweet smiles and fleeting hands. It gets a lot of Scott enough tips to buy them both a packet of French fries that Stiles happily munches on during Scott’s break.

Scott drinks coffee like it’s the only source for his energy. Derek allows him to drink that much for he spends an extra half an hour after his shift to help clean up his stations. Derek grunts and just pours another cup.

Stiles’ hands are numb by the time they get home. It’s only five in the evening but the sun is a dusty crisp on the horizon. Scott suggests they go onto the roof. Stiles nods but his mind is on something else.

Scott climbs till he’s sitting on the edge and his legs are dangling over the side of the building. Stiles blindingly follows and he sits too close to him that their shoulders are pressed together. Scott doesn’t move, he sighs and stares out at the sunset.

“It’s horribly clichéd.” Stiles laughs. Scott grins, his cheeks wide.

“Yeah, nothing beats a good ol’ sunset though.”

Stiles traces a finger down Scott’s crooked jaw and Scott glances at him out the corner of his eye.

“I think I might need to thank you.” Stiles says.

Scott swallows and his eyes look forward again.

“I really think I need to thank you.” Stiles whispers. He has to try swallow over the sudden lump in his throat.

“For what?”

“You know what.”

“Yeah,” Scott shrugs, throws it away. “It’s nothing, dude.”

Stiles rests his forehead briefly on Scott’s shoulder before becoming embarrassed and staring ahead as well. Scott’s pinky touches his, and wraps around it.

The air is cold and Scott’s hand are warm and it's all Stiles can feel.

Stiles breathes in and holds it. Lets it out slowly.

“You need help, man.” Scott says.

Stiles doesn’t blink but nods. Once, twice.

“I know.”

“You have a problem. Like a major big one that I can’t help you fix.”

Stiles squeezes his pinkie tighter and stares out at the fading sunset, feeling the cold settle against him.

~

Stiles sleeps in Scott’s bed sometimes. He’ll wake during the night and feel his throat closing up and his fingers shaking and stumbles his way towards Scott’s room.

Scott doesn’t move but grunt faintly and allows room for Stiles to crawl in. Stiles didn’t know where to put his hands the first time now he buries his hands under Scott’s nightshirt for he’s so warm. Warmer than a person should be.

Stiles now can’t sleep when Scott’s not there. When Scott’s working nights, Stiles will open a packet of Cheeto’s and counts them out before eating each and everyone then he’ll watch late night TV shows till the infomercials come on. He smokes sometimes from the hidden packet in between the walls that has a hole punched through it in the living room. He tries fixing the broken landline with an old screwdriver and singed fingers.

Scott will come home with bleary eyes and a watery smile then they’ll crawl into bed. They would have their back to each other or Stiles, with some unfound courage, lies with his head burrowed against Scott’s chest. They’ll sleep to the early hours of the afternoon.

Stiles will steal the newspaper from the next door neighbour’s box and Scott will pour a cup of tea for Stiles and coffee for himself. Stiles likes these mornings for his head doesn’t pound quite as hard nor does his nose start to bleed. He can sit across from Scott as he browses the job section and pretend they’re living together for love, not survival. He pretends that his dad isn’t dead.

Stiles bites into his toast. That’s all they eat these days. It’s all they can afford.

He tries to pretend it’s a pancake. The smell of Scott’s marker is making his head hurt and he can feel his heart beating too hard. Scott circles around a section in the newspaper.

Stiles tries to pretend.

~

Stiles’ dad died about nine months ago. Enough time for a child to be born but Sties is wasting away instead. His dad died ‘cause he lost his mind. He had Alzheimer’s and Stiles didn’t realise for too long until coming home from college to finding his dad with a bullet in his brain because he thought he was his own enemy. He thought it was something more severe to make him do that but it was his mind forgetting. Forgetting who he was and who Stiles was and what he was meant to do. He was meant to always be his dad. He died on a Wednesday where it was the mid-summer, where the grass is turning brown and the air was too tight for his lungs.

He was buried a week later. Stiles stood beside Melissa as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He shook so hard the petal on the flowers he held in his hand began to fall.

Scott helped him pack away everything and he moved into the McCalls.

He ran away three months later.

Scott found him two months after that but it was too late, the damage had been done.

Scott left college and moved into a dingy apartment with too creaky floors and has tried to nurse him back. Melissa still thinks he’s in school.

Stiles feels guilty when he thinks about her and has to swallow the bile that rises in his throat.

~

Scott helps him pack that night. All his stuff fit into a single rucksack, his gear – Scott took it. He doubt he’s gonna see it again. He starts to cry when Scott hands him the rucksack.

Scott pulls him into a hug, his arm tight around Stiles’ waist.

“You’ve got a problem, and I’m trying to help.”

“I know.” Stiles bites his lip and holds Scott even tighter.

“When you’re clean, man, we can talk about us.”

Scott pulls back to kiss him. It’s soft and fleeting but to Stiles it’s the sign of promise.

He sighs into the kiss and into the hope of Scott.

He’ll get clean.

Scott steps back and let’s a small smile cross his face.

Stiles grins back, his yellow teeth showing.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the size of this! Life is not helping me out right now.


End file.
